This Monster We've Created
by lunarmage
Summary: There is a story behind every killer. This is the story of one who broke away from the Fraternity's clutches to forge his own bloody path in the meanest streets of London: Stitch-face.
1. A Woman of the Streets

Rated "M" for safety, mostly for later chapters. There is violence, implied adult situations, and other content not suitable for younger readers.

"Then one of the seven angels who were holding the seven bowls came to me and said: 'Come, I will show you the judgment in store for the great harlot who sits by the waters of the deep. The kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the earth's inhabitants have grown drunk on the wine of her lewdness.' The angel then carried me away in spirit to a desolate place where I saw a woman seated on a scarlet beast….The woman was dressed in purple and scarlet and adorned with gold and pearls and other jewels. In her hand she held a gold cup that was filled with the abominable and sordid deeds of her lewdness…."

-The Book of Revelation

It was late summer, a slight hint of an autumn wind in the balmy air. Charlotte Haycraft stood on a street corner next to a feebly glowing streetlamp. She shivered a bit and pulled her wrap more tightly around her thin shoulders against the sharp, cold bite of the wind, wishing that her dress wasn't so flimsy.

She looked like her fellow sisters of the street, heavily made up, wearing tawdry dresses and finery, her dark blonde hair arranged in ringlets, like a porcelain doll. She was not especially pretty, with a round, plain face. Her hair was one of her only assets, thick, silky and luxurious. Charlotte's dress was bright scarlet, and with it she wore a garnet necklace a client had given her some time ago, though she suspected that the pendant was a paste replica and the chain was brass, not gold.

If a woman of the streets was lucky, a client or clients would take a shine to her and she might be showered with gifts like dresses, jewelry or other trinkets. In her career, Charlotte had received only the necklace and a pearl brooch, but not a decent dress to replace her cheap ones.

On this particular night, Charlotte had had no luck thus far. _Maybe it's the dress_, she mused. _Maybe I look a little _too_ cheap._ Just as she was seriously considering trying a different corner, even though there might be competition, she spied a lone man strolling towards her. She wondered which line (she knew many) would be most effective to snare him, but she settled on "You look like you might be a little lonely tonight, sir."

_At least he's easy on the eyes…_She thought, she was rarely fortunate enough to snag the good-looking ones.

"I might." He smiled at her with straight, even teeth, and she knew by his predatory gaze that she had him. All she needed to do was negotiate a price.

On the night before Christmas Eve, Charlotte Haycraft walked quickly and purposefully through the crowds of late-night drinkers, revelers and street girls. The drunks sometimes harried her, and the women eyed her suspiciously, but she continued on her course, not even stopping to chat with one of her regular patrons. As she walked, she tried to conceal her swelling stomach with her wrap, hoping that it wasn't too noticeable.

After taking a few shortcuts through alleys and side streets, she arrived at her destination, surreptitiously slipping in through a side entrance.

Down a hallway and into a small room. In the light of an oil-lamp, Charlotte saw a woman sitting at a desk.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Pyke." She said.

The woman looked her up and down with a scrutinizing eye. "On the right, room 43."

Down another hallway, this one deserted and dingy. She knocked on the door. "Come in."

Inside was an examination room. Dr. Mammon Pyke sat on a chair next to the bed, his doctor's bag on the floor at his feet. Dr. Pyke's dark hair was streaked with grey, his eyes a pale, sharp, icy blue. He had a pinched, narrow face and a scrawny frame, and his small spectacles perched on his pointed nose.

"Good evening, Miss Haycraft." His voice was pleasant and cultured, but it had a slippery quality to it. Charlotte wouldn't have been surprised if Dr. Pyke was involved in underground dealings or other shady business of some sort.

"Good evenin' Doctor Pyke." She said.

"Are you ready, miss?" He asked.

"I've never had this….operation, but I'm ready to try if it means I won' have this baby." She replied. "They're more trouble than they're worth."

A brief flash of white, sharp teeth. "I understand, Miss Haycraft."

The next day, she felt absolutely miserable. When the other women left for the night, she remained at the brothel, but, Sarah, one of the other young women, asked "Are you goin' to be fine here, by yourself?"

"I will. This'll pass soon." _I hope_, she added to herself.

"Suit yourself." Sarah said, following the others out into the cold, hostile streets.

As she lay, bedridden, Charlotte could not help but worry that something had gone wrong during the course of the operation. Had Dr. Pyke actually performed that surgery before, or had he made a serious error out of inexperience? She had sensed something untrustworthy about him, but she didn't think he'd purposefully injure or sicken her.

Whatever had happened, she just hoped that the operation had been effective. If not, it was a waste of her hard-earned money, and much more trouble for her.

After a few days, Charlotte felt better, but it soon became apparent that the swelling in her abdomen had not disappeared. _Give it some time_ she told herself.

A month later, it had not shrunk, it had done the opposite. She realized that she was going to bear a child, whether she wanted to or not. The inevitability of it all crashed down on her. And worst of all, it would be hard to get clients, she looked too much like used goods.

As these thoughts swirled in her head, there was a knock on her door. Without waiting for an invitation, the proprietor, Mrs. Higgins, walked in.

"It seems you're pregnant, Charlotte." The older woman said. She often acted disdainful of her employees, but most of the women whispered that she had once been a street girl too. Though she spoke like a respectable woman, some suspected that she was covering up her street accent.

"What of it?" Charlotte said. Normally, she wouldn't have been so defiant, but she didn't feel like sucking up at that moment. She was fatigued and annoyed.

"No man wants a pregnant girl. You're too much of a burden and a liability right now. And it'll only get worse once the baby is born."

"So you're tellin' me to get out?" Charlotte felt angry, but also panicked. She had no idea where she would go.

"Yes. Pack your things and leave."

Charlotte left the brothel that had been her home for seven years. Somehow, she was happy to go, even if it meant being out in the cold. She was free, in a sense. With what little savings she had she rented a room at an inn for a night. Even six months pregnant, she could still manage to sell herself, though the men were loath to pay full price. She grew hopeful that she could make it on her own for at least three more months, at least until the baby was born.

She knew she couldn't support herself and a baby on a prostitute's wages. What she would do with the child once it was born, she didn't know, and she refused to dwell on the thought at that moment.

Author's Note: This is the first multi-chapter fanfiction I've ever posted, so bear with me. To anyone who may be reading this but hasn't read the book, _The Haunting of Alaizabel Cray_ takes place in a steampunk-esque alternate universe version of London, where supernatural creatures called the wych-kin have taken over the old quarter of the city. One of the antagonists is Stitch-face, a notorious serial murderer who has a score to settle with the main antagonist, Dr. Mammon Pyke. I wrote this story because Chris Wooding never really explained Stitch-face's back story, and I wanted to fill in the gaping holes in his life story. He is sort of like Jack the Ripper, which is not my fault.

And before anyone makes an immature comment about the fact that his mother is a prostitute, I'd like to say that prostitution is a sad fact of history, and even of the present. If you think that women actually enjoy selling themselves, consider the fact that many are forced into the business by difficult circumstances. Don't be insensitive. Also, I am neither endorsing nor condemning abortion, it's merely a plot device. I don't want to start a political debate.

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Haunting of Alaizabel Cray_, Chris Wooding is the original author, and all characters, aside from those of my own invention, belong to him.


	2. Birth of a Monster and Empty Promises

"A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. Because she was with child, she wailed aloud in pain as she labored to give birth. Then another sign appeared in the sky: it was a huge dragon, flaming red, with seven heads and ten horns; on his heads were seven diadems. His tail swept a third of the stars from the sky and hurled them down to the earth. Then the dragon stood before the woman about to give birth, ready to devour her child should it be born…."

-The Book of Revelation

In the wee hours of a spring morning, the residents of the small inn heard a woman cry out in pain. Mrs. Yates, the proprietor, rushed into Charlotte Haycraft's room to see what the matter was.

Charlotte lay on the bed, sweating, her teeth gritted in pain. "It's comin'."

"Someone call a doctor!" Mrs. Yates hollered at the people thronged at the door. "Don't just stand there!"

After an hour of struggle, Charlotte Haycraft gave birth to a live baby boy. The doctor took the child in order to clean and examine him, but the woman cried out. "No! Let me hold him!"

The doctor looked at Mrs. Yates with a concerned frown, but she shook her head. The doctor acquiesced, allowing Charlotte to hold her son.

"What are you going to name him?" Mrs. Yates asked. Seeing Charlotte's blissful expression, she couldn't help but smile.

"I haven' really thought about it…." Charlotte had thought about abandoning the child, not naming it. "What are some good names?"

"Well…" Mrs. Yates bit her lip, considering. "What about…Michael?"

"No. It doesn' seem quite right." Charlotte replied. "Something a little less common, maybe…."

"Oscar?"

"Hmmm….no."

"Allen?"

"No."

"Edward?"

"No."

The landlady thought for a long time, and, seemingly out of the blue, a name struck her. "How about Arthur?"

"That's not too bad….Arthur it is!"

"May I please see young Mr. Arthur Haycraft, then?" The doctor said. "I need to examine him."

"Go ahead, doctor." Charlotte handed her child to the doctor, but she kept a close eye on him until he gave the boy back.

Once the doctor and the landlady left, Charlotte sat up in bed to nurse her child. The sunlight streamed in through the thin curtains, infusing the room with a golden glow. As the tiny baby suckled, bathed in soft light, she whispered. "I hope that you will never suffer like me. I will do everythin' I can to make sure you are happy. I swear….."

Author's Note: My apologies, this chapter is rather short. I realize that Arthur is a rather stupid name, but it grew on me.

Women always tell me that all of their doubts about motherhood fade once they have their child in their arms, I wouldn't know, so I took their word for it in writing this chapter. Even someone like Charlotte, who's had a lot of bad experiences that have hardened her heart, is capable of motherly love.

Since I have nothing else to write, I'd like to thank the Academy, I mean, everyone who has read or reviewed my two Harry Potter one-shots!


	3. The Cruel World

_Yoninagare idetewa nigoruka yamashimizu._

Flowing into the world/does it turn impure?/A mountain spring."

-Haiku by Buson

Arthur Haycraft looked nothing like his mother. He had not inherited her fair hair, blue eyes, or plain, round face. Instead, his hair was darker, his eyes a soft brown, and his visage was more pleasing, a sort of parting gift from his unknown father.

Even at the tender age of seven, Arthur was already highly aware of the world, and its cruelty. Though he did not completely understand it, he knew that his mother slept with different men every night. He was also aware of the fact that he had no father.

His mother worked long hours in a factory. She would come back to their small apartment after her shift, and most times she would go out with her "friends." Arthur had little time with his mother, and therefore he cherished every moment he had.

Hardship didn't break the boy, it strengthened him and taught him to count his blessings, though they were few. Sometimes, when he felt lonely, he would tell himself _At least I am not an orphan. At least I have my mother, sometimes._

One spring night, Charlotte decided to stay home instead of joining her fellows on the street. She had wanted to surprise her son, but instead, she found a rather unpleasant surprise when she arrived at her apartment.

Arthur had a black eye, as well as various bruises and cuts. He turned as she entered the room, trying to cover the eye. Charlotte rushed to her child, pulling his hand away to inspect the damage. "Who did this?" She asked.

"No one." The boy replied.

"Don' lie to me."

"Just some kids."

"Which ones?"

"I don't know them."

"Why did they do this to you?"

He didn't say anything for a moment.

"Well?" Charlotte pressed.

"They called me a…." he whispered "whore's son…." He looked at his feet before asking. "What does it mean? Is it…bad?"

She sighed wearily. "It's nothin' but a really mean-spirited name. If they ever say that, or somethin' like it again, ignore them. Words are nothin'. But if they ever try to beat you again, you run away. When they gang up like that, you have no chance again' them, don't bother."

"I can't let them get away with that. They were talking about you, weren't they?" He asked quietly.

"Well…yes. But don' worry about me." She sighed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She smiled at her son. "Now chin up. I'll get something' for that eye from Mrs. Welling next door, and then you'll open your present."

The boy brightened up. "For me?"

"Of course, silly."

After Charlotte had applied Mrs. Welling's salve to her son's black eye, she presented him with a box, wrapped in newspaper. He unwrapped it rather slowly, savoring the moment, knowing unconsciously that it wouldn't last long. It was a set of charcoals, he opened the lid to see the implements lined up neatly, and his face broke into a smile unwillingly.

"You like it?" His mother asked, beaming.

"Yes." He said quietly, regarding the present with mild wonder. He removed one of the charcoals, held it in his hand.

"Since you were little, you've always been drawing. When you were a baby, you would draw in the dirt, as you got older, you drew on any scrap of paper you could get your hands on." His mother told him, pulling him close to her.

"Thank you, thank you so much." Arthur said, beyond grateful.

"You're welcome. I'm so glad you like them. Use them well."

"What should I draw first?" He inquired of his mother, looking up at her expectantly.

Charlotte looked around their sparse flat, finding nothing worthy of her son's hand. She pulled back the curtains, but she saw only the grey streets, filled with human debris.

"Could I draw you, mother?" The boy asked.

She hesitated. "Of course."

She sat still while he sketched, and after about twenty minutes, he held up the paper for her to see.

She gasped slightly. On the paper was a nearly exact rendering of her face, leached of color, but drawn with loving attention to detail. She took the drawing in her hands, holding it up to the faint light of the oil lamp. "Amazing." She whispered, at a loss for any other words.

"You like it?" He asked bashfully.

"I love it." She answered, embracing her son.

"I'm glad."

For Arthur, it was the best birthday ever. At the time, he had no idea that it would be the last birthday he spent with his mother.

Author's Note: Sorry this update took so long, I could make up an excuse, but I was just being lazy, in all honesty. I'm going on vacation soon, and then I'll be back to school, but I'll try to update again before my prison term, I mean school year starts.

Breaking my tradition of bible quotes at the start of each chapter, I chose a haiku by Buson for chapter three. I stumbled across it and thought it fit this chapter well.


	4. The Death of the Harlot

"The ten horns you saw on the beast will turn against the harlot with hatred; they will strip off her finery and leave her naked; they will devour her flesh and set her on fire."

-The Book of Revelation

…

Scarcely two months after Arthur's birthday, Charlotte woke up one morning feeling sickly. She hoped it was just a brief sickness, and not an indication of another pregnancy. In the next couple of weeks, she began to see that it was not a temporary illness. Much to her dismay, she recognized the signs. She was with child. Again.

Charlotte was very much aware that she could not support two children. Though Arthur brought so much warmth and joy into her life, she would not be able to feed and clothe another child with her current income. As it was, she barely scraped by. The only solution she saw was, regrettably, another operation, and she hoped it would work this time.

…

It was the height of summer and, even late at night, the heat lingered, like an unwelcome guest. Business was better for street girls during this time of year, as potential clients weren't usually in too much of a hurry, no wind, cold or rain to drive everyone indoors.

But Charlotte had no time that night. She had an appointment, this time with a different doctor. She had heard of a young but skillful woman surgeon who specialized in "birth control" from some of her fellows. Her fees were reasonable and so far all of her operations had been successful.

In retrospect, Charlotte realized her mistake in going to Dr. Pyke. She had known hardly anything about him at the time, she hadn't wanted to arouse suspicion by asking around. _No, it wasn't a mistake_ she thought. _It was probably the best decision of my life_. Putting these thoughts aside, she continued to her destination, Mercy Hospital.

…

Dr Mara O'Connor had dark auburn hair arranged in a tight, neat bun, her deep green eyes peered out from behind square spectacles. She was lovely and severe all at once, with a smooth and composed face. Her dress was a rich shade of olive green, not overly extravagant, but flattering, made of high-quality material. She smiled at Charlotte, not an especially warm, kind smile, but not hostile or disdainful.

"So, Miss Haycraft….How many children do you have?"

"One." Charlotte replied.

"Is this your first operation?"

"No. My first was…unsuccessful."

"I see….Now, before we get started, there's someone who would like to speak with you."

Dr. Mammon Pyke emerged from another room, closing the door behind him. "What a coincidence, Miss Haycraft." He said, sitting down in another chair.

Charlotte was confused. "Wait…what are you doin' here?"

He smiled, which made Charlotte's skin crawl, for some reason. "I was merely visiting my good friend Dr. O'Connor, as she and I have some business to attend to together. I didn't realize that her patient would be _you_, Miss Haycraft."

"You know this whore, Dr. Pyke?" Charlotte couldn't quite read the look on Dr. O'Connor's face, but her eyes were cold.

"A former patient, my dear, nothing more." Pyke assured her. The woman's face softened, she looked smug. "In fact, I was the one who performed this operation on her, though I regret to admit that I failed. I was never cut out for surgery, I'm afraid….Anyway, Dr. O'Connor and I have a little bit of Fraternity business to attend to, and you will be assisting us, Miss Haycraft."

Seeing Charlotte's look of confusion, the doctor laughed. "I'm afraid that if I told you about the Fraternity, I'd have to kill you. Well, either way I'm going to have to kill you, but there is no need to worry your foolish head about it. You'll be dying for a cause much greater than yourself."

Charlotte paled. "What is goin' on here?" She asked haltingly, looking for an escape. But the two doctors were between her and the exit.

"It is time for Dr. O'Connor's initiation, Miss Haycraft. And you will be playing an integral role in the ceremony. Don't you feel honored?" Turning to his companion. "Mara, my dear, I'll restrain her, and you will be free to do the easy part."

Dr. O'Connor pulled a gun and a knife from her doctor's bag. Before Charlotte could scream, Dr. Pyke advanced on her and put a cloth in her mouth.

…

Dr. O'Connor's hair was disheveled, her fine dress spotted with red. Beside her was the knife, covered with fresh blood.

"I offer thee the blood of this foul harlot, mighty one, in hope that you will be appeased…." She intoned, her face blank, devoid of any emotion. "I supplicate thee. Deem me worthy of joining my brothers and sisters. The tainted blood that stains my hands is also on theirs, and the swelling river of red flows into thy jaws, O great one…."

…

Author's Note: Yeah, the Fraternity is _really_ messed up, with their quasi-Satanic rites, demon worship and ritual murders.

Dr. O'Connor is a character of my own creation. As far as I know, Dr. Pyke has never been involved with a woman, but I thought she'd make the story a bit more interesting. She'll play a larger role later on….*smiles mysteriously*

I'm sorry the updates are coming more slowly. I'm really busy with school and college applications, but I try to write a little every day, not always fanfiction, but I try. Thanks to my serial reviewer, Violet-Madness, for reviewing every chapter of TMWC thus far, it's much appreciated!


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